that so?”
“Uh-huh. Want to put your weapons down, or do you think you’ll need a hammer and a poker to ward me off?”
A grin slid across his features so fast she couldn’t be sure she’d actually seen one. He set the hammer aside with deliberate care. The glowing metal hissed loudly, sending a vapor stream into the darkness of the night as he plunged the object into a large tin of water.
“I’ll risk it,” he told her.
“So, who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I don’t think you’re the one who should be asking the questions. I was hired to be here. What about you?”
Anger washed over her. “Marcus,” she cursed.
“I gather you know the owner?” he questioned.
“You’re looking at the owner.”
Slowly, he began tugging off his gloves, but not before she had the satisfaction of seeing his surprise.
“A little young, aren’t you?”
“You seem fascinated by my age.”
He watched her, his face mostly in shadow now, giving him an even darker, more brooding appearance.
“You’re a fascinating person,” he told her softly.
Her breath caught in her throat. A current of awareness arced between them. Disconcerted, she shook her head against the powerful impact he seemed to be having on her senses. Not all the heat seemed to be coming from the forge.
“Look, it’s getting late and I’ve just had a tiring drive,” she said quickly. “Is Marcus home?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Okay. Then do you have a key to get past that fancy gate you put over my back door?”
“Your door,” he said mildly, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of those closely fitted jeans.
“Yes, my door. The name is Hayley Hart Thomas. As of two weeks ago, Heartskeep in its entirety belongs to me and my sister.”
It was only a slight exaggeration. Two weeks ago their mother had been officially declared dead. There was no other living person with any legal right to lay claim to the estate.
The blacksmith regarded her steadily while seconds ticked silently past. Full dark descended. The waves of heat emanating from the fire seemed to fill the night, blocking normal sounds. She gave a small start when he finally spoke again. This time, his voice was bare of inflection.
“No keys, Ms. Thomas. You’ll have to take that up with Mr. Thomas.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to.” Bitterly she decided she might have to call the police after all. “Sorry I disturbed you.” Gathering her anger like a cloak, she spun around. After taking two steps, she paused to look over her shoulder. The stranger hadn’t moved.
“And I want my lions back.”
His eyebrows raised at her demand.
“Do you mean the old stone lions that used to be at the main entrance? Mr. Thomas wanted them destroyed—”
“You didn’t!”
“No, actually I didn’t. I had them taken to my shop.”
Relief swelled inside her. He still had her lions. “Where is that?”
“Tucked up in the hills about an hour’s drive northwest of here. I doubt you’ve ever heard of the place. Murett Township doesn’t appear on most maps.”
He was right. She’d never heard of it. “I want them replaced the way they were. Excuse me while I go have a nice long chat with my father. Have a good evening, Mr.—”
“Myers,” he supplied. “Bram Myers.”
“Well, Mr. Myers, it was interesting talking with you. You’ll have to forgive me for running off, but it looks like I need to drive a car through one of your clever gates to get inside my own house.”
He rocked back on his heels. Once again she sensed an underlying amusement. “Now why do I think you’re ready to do exactly that?”
“Good instincts?”
“Try the front door,” he suggested softly. “I haven’t completed the design for that gate.”
Hayley hesitated. “I will. And Mr. Myers, I wouldn’t waste time creating any more gates or bars for Heartskeep if I were you.”
Hayley plunged back down the pitch dark path toward the house. She didn’t dare look back. Bram Myers was entirely too disconcerting for comfort. She had never seen a sexier man in all her life. Too bad she was going to have to fire him in the morning.
She wished there was a moon overhead as she made her way cautiously around the house to the front door. Curiously, she didn’t even need her key. The tarnished brass knob twisted easily beneath her fingers. The door swung wide, revealing a black, cavernous interior that was far from inviting. Hayley could barely see to step over the threshold. She searched along the wall for the remembered light switch, relieved when her fingers closed over it. But nothing happened.
A large chandelier hung over the foyer. One bulb might be burned out, but not all of them. Obviously, the electricity wasn’t working again. The house had an empty, deserted feeling. Where was everyone?
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Her voice seemed to echo hollowly.
Straight ahead, the formal grand staircase rose imperiously to the second floor. Beyond it was the incredibly large, one-of-a-kind living room. On her right was the library, and to her left, the narrow, formal parlor her grandfather had converted into a waiting room for Marcus’s patients.
Hayley knew a moment of shock when she sensed the door to that parlor standing wide open. Except during office hours, Marcus always kept that door closed and locked.
Despite her unease, she was drawn to the opening. She set down her case and crossed to the entrance, stepping warily inside. The bank of windows on her left was covered by thick, heavy drapes, so there wasn’t even a faint trace of light in the waiting room.
“Hello? Is anyone home?”
A whisper of sound slithered to life from somewhere inside. Common sense told her to leave. Fear told her to run. Sternly, Hayley told herself she wasn’t a child. This was her home. She had nothing to fear here.
“Hello?”
Shoving back a long tendril of hair that had worked its way loose from her ponytail, she stepped into the dark recess of the room.
“Is someone in here?”
No one answered, but there was a definite slither of sound that sent prickles of alarm straight up her spine. It was impossible to pinpoint the source
